


He closed all the windows

by Skogmus



Series: Leave you out and let you in again [1]
Category: Ackley Bridge (TV)
Genre: Family, M/M, Pining, True Love, hee hee
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-06 02:02:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16379273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skogmus/pseuds/Skogmus
Summary: Years after Ackley Bridge College, Cory's life takes a turn again and it seems that some things can't be forgotten.





	1. i

It goes like this: first, Riz calls. That is, in itself, not out of the ordinary—him and Cory like to speak on the phone. They’ve done so since they left school and left each other, one a professional rugby player and the other—the other an alpaca farmer.

It hadn’t been Cory’s first choice, alright. It hadn’t been on the list at all, actually. But it had been on Jordan’s, and who was Cory to refuse when Jordan had turned up with the papers that said he _owned a farm_ , asking (begging, if Cory thinks about it while feeling petty) him to join and help out? So, within a month, they had moved from their flat and into a little house with acres of land surrounding them, woods in the distance like green brush strokes.

Not to talk about the alpacas. The alpacas. Oh, the alpacas. A couple years ago, Cory would have called them cute. That time when he and Jordan stole a couple for Jamie’s christening, he would have called them demons. Now, though, he calls them Fluffa and Wooly and Bah and Spotty and Spider-Alpaca, to name a few. It’s always Jamie who names them.

Jamie LOVES the alpacas. He pets them and talks with them and herds them and when it’s shearing time, he kisses them and tells them how good they are. He’s a wonder to watch, because he’s so good with them, has such a tack for animals, and even just his presence calms the alpacas down. And yes, he’s only there every other week, but Cory can feel a big difference between Jamie week and not-Jamie week.

He sometimes wishes—well, for a lot of things to have gone differently. Jamie’s… conception, and the circumstances around above all. If it hadn’t been so messy then maybe they could have lived together all the time. They could have been a picture-perfect family with good economy and good morals and everything going for them.

But, he supposes nothing good ever comes from dwelling on the past, so Cory doesn’t think about it. Most of the time, at least. Still, sometimes, when he drives Jamie to Candice and has to drive home all alone, his mind might—might wander places he keeps locked up. And yes, maybe he has to pull over a place no one can see him to cry, but as long as he contains it in the car, as long as he limits it to those times, then he figures it’s ok.

They ‘re eating lunch when the phone rings. They had been out all morning: Jordan had been pressing hay bales and Cory and Jamie had been tending to a lamb (“A _cria_ ,” Jordan yells in the back of his head, but Cory has never bothered with the terminology) that was weak. She had been born late, when the animals were out and had been lost in the high grass. It had taken a whole day to find her. Jamie had named her Gecko (for all the things the boy was, poetic was not one of them), and they had bottle-fed her because her mother didn’t recognize her.

They’d made oatmeal for lunch, and Jamie was just about to empty the whole sugar flask on his portion when the phone rings and stops every motion in the room. They sit there, silently for a second, two seconds, three, four; but the Jordan swings into action, walks hurriedly over the kitchen floor and answers the phone with a short (and grumpy) “Hello?” and then “It’s Riz.”

Cory takes over. “Hey, mate, how’s London?”

“Cold,” Riz says, his voice is squeaky from the phone. “Especially in October. You’ll never guess who I ran into.”

“Uh,” Cory says uncertainly. “Harry… Potter?”

He can hear the smile all the way from London. “Almost. Naveed—Naveed Haider. You remember him?”

Something flashes through Cory: an emotion? It’s gone before he can pin it down. But he does remember Naveed. It’s a stupid question. Once upon a time, he knew him better than anyone else, but that’s long gone and he doesn’t want to think about it. “Yeah.”

“He wants to visit Ackley. You know his parents moved after him in London so they could catch his shows—and the motel’s daylight robbery, yeah?”

“Isn’t he rich,” Cory whispers.

“No one’s rich enough for that motel, I’m telling you, it’s actually insane—but the point is, he doesn’t have anywhere to stay.”

“Sucks.” Back at the table, Jamie has started with the butter, spoon after spoon is going into the oatmeal. Jordan doesn’t stop him, which is very, incredibly typical.

Riz sighs. “Come on, don’t be difficult. Can’t he stay with you? You were good friends once, you know. I remember.”

_Not like I do_ , Cory thinks. _No one remembers it like I do_.

It’s the soft “Please?” that in the end gets him.

“Alright. Alright. Yes. He can come.” He rubs the bridge of his nose, annoyed but not knowing why, and swallows his sigh.

“Thanks,” Riz says and is happy. “Knew I could count on you.”

After the Call comes the Cleaning. It’s roughly two weeks from Riz calls to Naveed is to be expected on the door, and so all three Wilson boys scrub the floors and cleans the bookcase, wipes the windows and washes the kitchen cabinets. They rake together the leaves and put new gravel on the roads. They put away all of Jordan’s art supply, paint and clay and textiles and whatever the fuck everything is. They change the curtains. They hang up pictures. And all the while he’s doing that, Cory only thinks about the task at hand and not the visitor that the days count down to.

They do discuss the bedding situation: it’s a bit complicated. They only have two bedrooms. One of them is Jamie’s. It is painted mint green and has posters of dinosaurs all around. The cool Tyrannosaurus, one with three horns, a couple of ones with long necks and of course, Jamie’s favourite, the v…velo…velociraptor, which are small dinosaurs that “runs super-fast and gang up on bigger prey so it can’t escape, dad, isn’t that cool?” and a bookshelf in which there are books about dinosaurs, one about a evolution and animals explained a bit simpler, two horror books and one comic Jordan made for him as a birthday gift a few years back when money was a bit tight. It has the striking title “Jamie in the Mesozoic era”, and is about… well. Jamie in the Mesozoic era. It was a success, it still happens they catch the boy reading it, careful with the handmade little booklet that’s tied together with pink string.

The other room is Cory’s. It is with flowery wallpaper, in earthly colours, and his bed is big. In the corner stands Jordan’s bed, smaller but only because it’s temporary. When Jamie is with Candice, Jordan sleeps in the dinosaur room. Cory honestly doesn’t know why it’s like that, why it’s Jordan who has to live nomadic when it’s his farm, but he supposes it has to do with him being the youngest and maybe a hierarchy that they never grew out of? It could also be because Jordan just doesn’t care, of course. Who knows? Not Cory. Who cares?  _Not Cory._

They decide to put Naveed in the dinosaur room so he can have some privacy. Jamie isn’t there that week anyway. He’s a bit sad about it, wants to meet the visitor which he has cleaned for so thoroughly. Cory promises they’ll visit. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep that promise, doesn’t know if Naveed will be interested in meeting his child again, but he hopes so and hope can carry him far.

He doesn’t think about what he’ll do if Naveed has changed so much Cory can’t recognize him, if he’s cold or if they are on different pages entirely. It’s the most likely, because Naveed is in London and does stand-up and acts in plays, and Cory walks in alpaca muck day in and day out.

The time goes by awfully fast: it gets so cold they have to start burning wood in the fireplace, and it gets darker and darker by the day. Autumn is upon them in full force. And then, and then the day comes. The Day of The Visitor.

Cory is fidgety and antsy all morning, sweeps over the floors one last time, controls that the pictures are all hanging evenly, until finally Jordan commands him out to check on the animals and only then, with their soft mouths against his hands as he feeds them concentrates, is he able to relax.

He hears the car before he sees it, but he sees it soon enough. It’s red and shiny and could only belong to Riz. Cory’s glad they put new gravel on the road so it doesn’t get spluttered with mud. It drives all up and parks right outside of their house. Cory swallows the heaviness in him and walks towards it with a hand raised in greeting. Riz comes out first: already from over ten metres away, Cory can see his muscle, in arms and legs and all other body parts. Being a professional rugby player does that to you, he supposes.

Riz opens the door in the back and takes out a black suitcase before he grins at Cory, partly runs towards him and gives him a hug that’s way gentler than it could have been. “It’s so nice to see you!” he says.

“You too,” Cory smiles and means it. If not even a broken neck could stop their friendship, nothing can.

He then hears a car door slam shut and he takes a moment to let all of his nerves wash over him, and then, slowly and with a smile as a greeting, he turns to The Visitor. His first though is that Naveed’s eyes haven’t changed at all, are a constant in an ocean of time. They look at him and they are so brown and familiar that Cory is seventeen and afraid again, is on the edge of the world again, and his body melts away and all that is left is his soul and those big, brown eyes.

“Hi,” Naveed says and smiles so big only Naveed can and Cory is brought back, his skeleton is rebuild, his organs placed back, his skin coating him once again. _Who could have thought old friendship and nostalgia could feel so strongly_ , he thinks later, as he shows his friends into his home.


	2. ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if you've been waiting! I'm not very organized!

“It’s just weird, is all,” Cory sighs. “We used to best friends, but that’s almost a decade ago. And still it’s like… Like it was yesterday? But only sometimes, like when we joke, or laugh about Jordan or something. Sometimes it so incredibly awkward I want the earth to swallow me whole, and I mean that, I really do—but then again, he’s so easy to be around. He always was. It’s like we connect, you know? Like really. But I don’t—” He closes his eyes. “You don’t know this, but we used to be so close and I’m not the same person, yeah? And I’m not sure he knows that.”

“Bah,” says Spider-Al wisely and eats some more grass. Cory sighs again. Maybe, possibly, alpacas don’t have life-changing advise after all. But they are very soft to pet and that is maybe healing in itself. He scratches behind her ear and she rolls on her long neck.

“There’s a good girl,” Naveed says and he comes out of nowhere, startling Cory to fall from his squat to his butt, his trousers turning dark from the water in it.  Spider-Al betrays her owner and runs toward him, pressing her snout to his hands.

Naveed likes the alpacas. He lauhgs so loudly and so gleefully whenever one of them presses their snout to his hand in hopes that he has any concentrates.

 “What’s this one’s name?”

“Spider-Alpaca,” Cory mumbles and scratches the back of his neck. “But we just call her Spider-Al for short.”

Naveed’s laugh is like a shout. “Your kid’s a genius, Wilson.” He frowns. “Are you sure you’re the father?”

Cory digs up mud and throws it at him, but he ducks (it’s probably his freaky dancer reflexes) and it lands a good three meters away. It makes Naveed laugh even louder and more, and Cory can’t help join, even as he digs up more mud. He doesn’t throw it, however, because Naveed sobers up and looks at him with a little smile and says “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, ‘course.” Cory rises to his feet, but then he feels the water in his jeans trickle down his thighs, and shivers. “I have to change first, I think.” He should have worn his coveralls after all then. He was just seeing to the alpacas (and apparently having a heart to wool conversation), but then, what goes after plan with Naveed in the house?

He’s only been there for a couple days, now, and it’s been nice. It’s been so nice. It’s been so long since he had company that he isn’t related to or isn’t covered with wool. Riz lives with his parents when he’s home and though he and Cory often meet up, it’s only a couple hours and then they’re going separate ways again. But Naveed—Naveed is there so long, and not just in time but in presence, like he never leaves. Cory wants him to never leave.

…Which really goes to show how sad his life is right now. He hasn’t, well. He hasn’t “been with” anyone in years, hasn’t had anything going on except raising a son and running a farm, hasn’t had the energy or the time or even the want to meet someone nice and settle, as his dad had said last time they spoke on the phone, in which Cory promptly had hung up. That that man thinks he can give him any good life advice is laughable.

So, it isn’t that he likes Naveed so much as it is that he’s maybe a little lonely, he resonates. He’d be grateful for anyone to distract him from Jordan.  

He doesn’t have any nice trousers left, and he swears a little under his breath as he puts on some soft ones that’s probably butt-ugly. They don’t even match with his wool sweater, which Jordan knitted him for a Christmas and who itches like hell if he doesn’t have at least two layers beneath it. But it keeps him warm. It keeps him warm and he doesn’t want anything else.

Naveed is still petting Spider-Al when he comes back. He is wearing his pink hat. Cory wonders if it’s the same or if he has gotten a new one. “Shall we?” he asks, and sits down in the driver’s seat

“See you soon baby,” Naveed coos to Spider-Al, before turning and getting in the car.

“Baby?” Cory raises an eyebrow.

“Everyone deserves to feel special, you know,” Naveed says and they’re serious for maybe half a second before they break out in laughter.

Nas and Missy lives in a cute little cottage not far from where they used to live, it’s painted white and have smooth rocks around their flowerbeds, apple trees in the garden. They can see the baby blue curtains from outside.

“Oh,” Naveed breathes and Cory smiles.

“Nice, isn’t it?” He’s been there before, of course. Not very often, maybe, but they’ve been invited for lunch and all. He likes being with them, even if they call him a walking STD.

“It really is.” Naveed goes out of the car, still marvelling at the house. He stops to pick up a rock. The sun, who’s already starting to set, hits him with soft orange tones that illuminate his eyes. They look like molten gold, Cory realises. His eyes are so warm. Whole him is so warm.

“Naveed!” they hear, and a shriek, and then Naveed is tackled by a long, brown braid, and they both stumble to the ground.

“Nas!” Naveed yells, and tries to shake her off him, but she only giggles on top of him.

“I’m not letting you go anymore! You’re staying with me forever now!” She holds him tightly as he tries to wiggle out of her grip—half-heartedly, he’s laughing too much to be able to make any serious effort.  

“Nasreen Paracha,” Missy says as she opens the door. “Are you really throwing yourself at your ex fiancé?” She clutches her hand to her heart, looking away and looking betrayed, the only thing revealing her being the little quirk of the corner of her mouth.

“Sorry love.” Nas finally stands up, dusting of her clothes and giving a hand to help Naveed up. “I’m leaving you for him.”

“And I who made you eggy bread,” Missy tuts and shakes her head, before letting go of the act completely and rushing to hug Naveed herself. “Oh, it’s been all too long!”

“Hi Cory,” Nas smiles and hugs him too, even though they met a week ago at the grocery store. “How’s Jamie?”

“Bummed that he can’t be here when we have fun visitors.”

“I’m no fun,” Naveed says—and the three others snort in unison. “What?” His eyebrows shoot up and disappear behind dark locks.

“You do stand-up.” Nas rolls her eyes and picks up the bags with wood she had dropped to tackle Naveed.

“And ice skating and theatre.” Cory knows Naveed has done a lot of theatre, but he can’t help but think of the one they did in school. They had done it together, and he thinks about—

“Plus,” Missy chimes in, “You’re gay!”

Naveed blinks. “That’s true. Maybe I am fun then.”

They go inside then, and it’s even nicer than outside. Their living room has pictures of their families all over, and a big fireplace where Nas hurries to build a fire in while Missy makes tea. They’ve got a new sofa since Cory was there last, it’s hot pink and velvet and he knows instantly it was Missy who picked it out.

“Well,” Naveed says and sips for his cup. “How’s it going?”

Nas and Missy share a glance. “Actually,” Nas says and coughs. “We have something to tell you.” She grabs Missy’s hand and giggles a bit.

“We’re engaged!” Missy and Nas yells in unison.

“What?” Cory and Naveed yells in unison.

“It’s true!” Nas shows them her ring, which is—oh. It’s beautiful. It has a flower with a diamond inside it and twinkles so greatly Cory wonders how he didn’t see it before.

“It’s lovely,” he says, and to his embarrassment his voice is a little rough.

“That—”Missy says and points to the flower, “—is a jonquil, which is French for daffodil, which is what Nasreen’s name means.” She throws out her arms and smiles brilliantly. “I am fountain of knowledge.”

“You’re indeed very good at reading the first google hit you find, dear.” Nas kisses her on her cheek, and Missy leans into it, like a cat.

“Well! How was it?” Naveed asks and looks like a child in a candy store. “Who proposed? When? Where? When’s the wedding? Who knows?”

“I proposed!” Missy tucks a stray hair behind Nasreen’s ear. “I organised a flash mob down where we the old sofa was. It was incredibly romantic.”

“The worst part is that it actually was.” Nas kisses her again, on the mouth and all.

 “I’m so, so happy for you,” Naveed says, and Cory can see tears starting to well up in his eyes. Naveed suddenly sways, as if to lean on Cory, as if to embrace him, but seems to decide against it in the last minute and stands up. He embraces Nasreen and Missy instead, and after a few seconds of deliberation, Cory joins the group hug. He is happy for them too. But in his heart, in his stomach a pit of loneliness opens and it grows.

“The wedding won’t be very fancy,” Missy says. “I mean, being a drama teacher is more emotionally giving than it is financially. And I’m not waiting until you’ve got that PhD either.”

“We’ll have a big silver wedding,” Nas decides and Missy nods enthusiastically.

He and Naveed go home a couple hours later, and it’s a full moon so it isn’t so dark.

“Can’t believe they’re getting married,” Naveed says in the car. His voice is quiet, soft. It’s dead silent around them save for the safe sound of the engine running. “Do you think it’s going to last?

“Yeah,” Cory says with no hesitation. “They’ve only fought a handful of times since I’ve known them, and every time they’ve bounced back stronger. They couldn’t even stop being friends while using me.”

“Using you?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard? Well, it was at the start of the school right, and I think, they didn’t know how to treat each other. Uh, so Missy was like: if you sleep with Nas I’ll sleep with you, which, when I think about it, seems super fucked, but yeah.” Cory scratches the back of his neck sheepishly.

“What!” Naveed lets out a shout of laughter, it’s a sharp contrast to the stillness of the night.

“Obviously it didn’t work, which. It makes sense.”

“It does. Poor Nas.”

“I’ve been thinking that a lot over the years too.” He’s glad he isn’t in school anymore. It was a painful, confusing time.

Jordan has made dinner, which isn’t as much of a disaster as it could be, only the potatoes are a tad overcooked, and there are no vegetables. But it’s good enough, and they eat together at the table and they laugh and they smile and it’s so nice it almost hurts. Cory ignores it. He needs to do something about this loneliness problem. Get himself a good girlfriend.

They watch TV afterwards. It isn’t much space in the sofa, and all their thighs are pressed together. Cory’s in the middle, with Naveed on his left and Jordan on his right, and still he is cold. He gets his wool blanket.

“Oh, good idea,” Naveed says, and slowly, smuggles his feet underneath the blanket, in Cory’s lap. “Your floors are cold.” It’s okay to be tactile, of course, Cory doesn’t mind, he doesn’t—but all of a sudden it gets very stuffy and tight.

Naveed laughs of something on the TV.

“I think I’m going to bed” Cory says quietly.

Jordan checks the clock. “It’s eight thirty.”

“Since when,” Cory says, harsher than he maybe meant to, “were you the boss of me?” Jordan shrugs defensively.

“Good night then,” Naveed says, and looks almost a bit disappointed to lose his footrest.

Jordan snores loudly that night. Cory can’t stop freezing.


End file.
